Immortal Sin

The angels never built picnic spots
What they forged were summits
Silver spears; insurmountable, so as to awe
Us, we with our half gnawed bones
Kept in the coldest corner of the cave
Perhaps that is why
We paint them, falling from the sky
Divine yet alone
Afraid to sin, on their own,
Stagnant in deeds and in thoughts
All because the angels never built picnic spots.

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